Fernando Botero (Colombian, 1932–), Cabeza de Cristo (Head of Christ), 1976. Oil on canvas, 185 × 179 cm. Museo de Antioquia, Medellín, Colombia.
Colombian painter and sculptor Fernando Botero is South America’s best-known artist. He is influenced by the Old Masters, which he studied in his twenties in Madrid, Paris, and Florence, and by the Mexican muralists. But his style—marked by plump, often childlike figures—is distinctively his own and has even been given the name “Boterismo.”
Throughout his career he has remained adamant that he does not paint “fat people” or “chubbies.” What he paints, he insists, is exaggerated volumes that highlight the body’s natural shape and the “sensuality of form.” In addition to religious subjects, he also paints Latin American street scenes, domestic life, nudes, and political portraits.
At age eighty-nine, Botero continues to be active as an artist, living and working between Paris, New York, and Tuscany.
LISTEN: “Legend (The Crown of Roses),” Op. 54, No. 5, by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, 1883/89 | Based on a text by Richard Henry Stoddard, 1856 | Performed by the University of Pretoria Camerata, dir. Michael Barrett, on Written in the Stars, 2021
When Jesus Christ was yet a child He had a garden small and wild, Wherein he cherished roses fair, And wove them into garlands there.
Now once, as summer-time drew nigh, There came a troop of children by, And seeing roses on the tree, With shouts they plucked them merrily.
“Do you bind roses in your hair?” They cried, in scorn, to Jesus there. The Boy said humbly: “Take, I pray, All but the naked thorns away.”
Then of the thorns they made a crown, And with rough fingers pressed it down. Till on his forehead fair and young Red drops of blood like roses sprung.
In 1877 Tchaikovsky found a Russian poem by Aleksey Pleshcheyev published in a journal; it was a translation of the English-language poem “Roses and Thorns” (1856) by American poet Richard Henry Stoddard, an allegory of the Crucifixion. It’s about the boy Jesus who tends a rose garden and dreamily weaves together crowns from the branches’ yield. One day a bunch of rowdy children comes by and carelessly yanks the flowers off the bushes, scoffing at Jesus for being soft, a flower lover. In a spirit of gentleness, he tells them they may have the flowers, but to leave the thorns. Continuing their derision, the children bend the bare, thorny stems into a crown and press it into Jesus’s head. From his flesh then bloom “roses” of blood.
Tchaikovsky first set the Russian poem to music in 1883, arranging it for solo voice and piano and publishing it as part of his Sixteen Songs for Children, Opus 54. In 1884 he arranged it for solo voice and orchestra, and in 1889 for unaccompanied choir.
When English-language choirs sing the song, instead of using Stoddard’s original text, they typically use a 1913 adaptation by British poet Geoffrey Dearmer—which I believe is the superior version. See a side-by-side presentation of the song’s textual history.
Stan Smith (British, 1929–2001), Kites Over Twickenham, ca. 1985. Oil on canvas, 82 × 121 cm.
What is this unfolding, this slow-
going unraveling of gift held
in hands open
to the wonder and enchantment of it all?
What is this growing, this rare
showing, like blossoming
of purple spotted forests
by roadside grown weary with winter months?
Seasons affected, routinely disordered
by playful disturbance of divine glee
weaving through limbs with sharpened shards of mirrored light,
cutting dark spaces, interlacing creation,
commanding life with whimsical delight.
What is this breaking, this hopeful
re-making, shifting stones, addressing dry bones,
dizzying me with blessings,
intercepting my grieving
and raising the dead all around me?
Samuel Salcedo (Spanish, 1975–), Heavy Rain, 2011. Polyester resin and aluminum powder, 185 × 180 × 260 cm. From the solo exhibition That’s Why I’m Light, Light like a Sunday Morning, October 16–November 11, 2014, Osnova Gallery, Moscow. Photo courtesy of the gallery.
LISTEN: “Water” by Gregory Porter, on Water (2010)
This is the title track of multi-Grammy-winning jazz vocalist and songwriter Gregory Porter’s debut album. The live performance posted below took place in November 2010 at Dizzy’s Club at Lincoln Center in New York City. It features Chip Crawford on piano, Alex Han on alto saxophone, and Yosuke Sato on alto saxophone.
Water pouring down the sidewalks Cleaning widows clear to see Washing gumdrops down side gutters Rusting chains and cleansing me
Greening gardens, drowning ants Changing rhythms, bruising plants Graying vistas soulfully And again it’s saving me
Ooooo Ooooo Wash me, wash me, wash me Let me rest in you Let me flow away to glory Save me, save me, save me
Carved and painted wood by Tony Nwachukwu (Nigerian, 1959–)
I retrieved this image years ago from https://anthonynwachukwu.com/, but the domain has since expired. Nwachukwu didn’t give a title or a date there, and I couldn’t find his contact information to ask. The scene on the far left appears to me to be a Nativity—Christ in the manger, his mother and father standing behind. Then there’s what I’m guessing is Jesus’s anointing with the Spirit at his baptism; hands outspread, he receives his commission. The wineglass and flatbread refer, of course, to the Last Supper, and to Jesus’s declaration that he is the bread of life and that he is initiating a new covenant in his blood. The overturned cup may be a reference to the cup of wrath poured out on Christ at his passion. The open palm with nail wound and adjacent blood-stained cross are shorthand for the Crucifixion. Next to that is the dark cavern of Christ’s tomb. But in the final segment the mouth of the tomb is open and bright, and Christ bursts forth in resurrection.
Tony Nwachukwu studied art at the University of Nigeria in Nsukka. Since 1987 he has lived in Owerri in Imo State, where he runs an art gallery. In addition to painting and carving, he also makes batiks (dyed cloth artworks) [previously] and liturgical vestments. In 2009 the German Catholic organization Misereor commissioned him to design that year’s Hungertuch, a liturgical veil hung in churches during Lent [previously], which was reproduced throughout Europe; his theme was climate change.
I been washed in the blood of the Holy Lamb Washed in the blood of Jesus
Well, I’m gonna tell you about the life of Jesus I’m gonna tell you about the life of Jesus He lived a long time ago He still lives today He came down from his Father in heaven To show us a better way
And I been washed in the blood of the Holy Lamb Washed in the blood of Jesus Washed in the blood of the Holy Lamb Washed in the blood of Jesus
He was born in a lowly place Smack-dab in the middle of the human race He grew up to spread the word of God Living and loving and sweating as a man Working and hurting and all that you can Living and dying, he knew that too
Washed in the blood of the Holy Lamb Washed in the blood of Jesus
He went through the land Preaching the gospel and the truth to man Healing the sick and saving the lost Driving the demons back to hell Then he came to Jerusalem Where trials and tribulations waited for him He wound up nailed on Calvary’s tree
And that’s where I was washed in the blood of the Holy Lamb Washed in the blood of Jesus Washed in the blood of the Holy Lamb Washed in the blood of Jesus
He was laid in the tomb He descended into hell He arose on the third day To angel horns and heavenly bells And when his disciples came looking for him He was not to be found Angels had rolled the stone away And Jesus was heaven-bound
Now I am washed in the blood of the Holy Lamb Washed in the blood of Jesus Washed in the blood of the Holy Lamb Washed in the blood of Jesus
This song is from a gospel album by North Carolina singer-songwriter, roots musician, and bandleader David Childers (b. 1952). (Read an album review here.) I learned about him through Bob Crawford, bassist for the Avett Brothers and a close friend and sometime collaborator of Childers’s.
“Life of Jesus” originated in the 1990s with Bill Noonan, one of Childers’s bandmates in the Gospel Playboys at the time. Noonan was just playing around, but Childers “took it seriously and wound up writing out some words and finding a song structure,” Childers told me. His son Robert Childers and Neal Harper produced the version of the song on Serpents of Reformation, released in 2014 on Ramseur Records. “The song . . . has continued to evolve with each performance,” Childers said in an email. “It usually gets the room moving and grooving, which might freak out some Baptists; but it makes me happy. I also think Jesus liked to see people happy, and maybe did not frown on dancing or demonstrable rejoicing.”
There are a handful of live performances of the song on YouTube, including this one from a house concert in Charlotte shortly after the album release:
In addition to writing and recording music, Childers practiced law for thirty-five years, serving as an attorney for those on social security and/or disability. Those two careers ran parallel for a while, but in 2016 Childers decided to quit the legal profession to focus on his music. He is also a poet and a painter.
LOOK: Christ with Pomegranates (ancient Christian mosaic)
Mosaic from Hinton St. Mary, Dorset, England, early 4th century, preserved at the British Museum, London.
One of the earliest surviving portraits of Christ is in the central roundel of a stone mosaic pavement excavated in the English village of Hinton St. Mary in Dorset, from what was either a Roman villa or a church. It’s part of a larger program of images that covered the floor, which you can see and read about in this Instagram post of mine, and on the British Museum website.
Clean-shaven and wearing a pallium, Christ is crowned with his personal monogram, the chi-rho—the first two letters of the Greek title ΧΡΙΣΤΟΣ, Christos. He is flanked by pomegranates, a symbol of life, fertility, and abundance. In Jewish tradition the pomegranate symbolizes righteousness because it is said to have 613 seeds, corresponding to the 613 mitzvot (commandments) in the Torah. The fruit was woven onto the hems of the robes of the Jewish high priests (Exod. 28:33–34) and is customarily eaten on Rosh Hashanah.
To these symbolic associations, I would add another: sweetness!
On this track Assad sings the first and last stanzas of the traditional five—which are themselves extracted from a poem that was originally forty-two stanzas! The ending sounds abrupt because on the album it moves seamlessly into the next track, “Cathedrals.” For the full song (same tune but without the harmonies), see Angels and Saints at Ephesus by the Benedictines of Mary, Queen of Apostles.
Latin:
Jesu, dulcis memoria
dans vera cordis gaudia:
sed super mel et omnia
ejus dulcis praesentia.
Nil canitur suavius,
nil auditur jucundius,
nil cogitatur dulcius,
quam Jesus Dei Filius.
Jesu, spes paenitentibus,
quam pius es petentibus!
quam bonus te quaerentibus!
sed quid invenientibus?
Nec lingua valet dicere,
nec littera exprimere:
expertus potest credere,
quid sit Jesum diligere.
Sis, Jesu, nostrum gaudium,
qui es futurus praemium:
sit nostra in te gloria,
per cuncta semper saecula.
Amen.
Literal (nonmetrical) English translation:
Jesus, sweet remembrance,
Granting the heart its true joys,
But above honey and all things
Is His sweet presence.
Nothing more pleasing can be sung,
Nothing gladder can be heard,
Nothing sweeter can be thought
Than Jesus, Son of God.
Jesus, hope of the penitent,
How merciful you are to those who ask,
How good to those who seek;
But O, what you are to those who find!
Tongue has no power to describe
Nor writings to express,
But only belief can know by experience
What it is to love Jesus.
Be our joy, O Jesus,
Who will be the prize we win.
May all our glory be in you, always
And through all ages.
Amen.
Trans. Mick Swithinbank and Jamie Reid Baxter
Does this sound vaguely familiar? Edward Caswall translated it into metrical English in 1849 as “Jesus, the Very Thought of Thee,” a staple of modern American hymnals:
Jesus, the very thought of Thee With sweetness fills the breast! Yet sweeter far Thy face to see And in Thy Presence rest.
No voice can sing, no heart can frame, Nor can the memory find, A sweeter sound than Jesus’ Name, The Savior of mankind.
O hope of every contrite heart! O joy of all the meek! To those who fall, how kind Thou art! How good to those who seek!
But what to those who find? Ah! this Nor tongue nor pen can show The love of Jesus, what it is, None but His loved ones know.
Jesus! our only hope be Thou, As Thou our prize shalt be; In Thee be all our glory now, And through eternity. Amen.
I commend to you the recording on A Hymn Revival, Volume 3 by The Lower Lights. The tune, from 1866, is by John B. Dykes.
“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body, what you shall put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add one cubit to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek all these things; and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well.”
—Matthew 6:25–33
LOOK: The Kingdom of the Father by Damien Hirst
Damien Hirst (British, 1965–), The Kingdom of the Father, 2007. Butterflies and household gloss on three canvas panels, 115 7/8 × 190 in. (294.3 × 482.6 cm). Photo: Randy Boverman.Detail. Photo: Yvette Wohn.
Seek ye first the kingdom And watch God add to your life Seek ye first the kingdom of God And his righteousness, it shall be yours
No need to worry ’bout the lack in your life The God I know, he will supply Submit your request, make it known Give it to God, leave it alone But you must have faith and believe what he said In his word, trust his word
When you pray, seek his face, trust his word—trust and obey If it’s in his word, you can count on it, trust his word—trust and obey When you seek him, believe—trust and obey Trust him, then seek him, and you’ll find him—trust and obey
Seek ye first the kingdom of God And his righteousness, it shall be yours
I was searching for a good rendition of “Seek Ye First” by Karen Lafferty, a pioneer of the Jesus Movement of the 1970s—but instead I came across this awesome gospel song inspired by the same scripture passage! It was written by Emorja Roberson—pianist, conductor, workshop coordinator, composer, arranger, and classical and gospel vocalist. He graduated with a master’s of sacred music in vocal performance from the University of Notre Dame in 2017 and is currently a student in the school’s doctor of musical arts in choral conducting program, with a focus on the African American repertoire. He is the director of the Voices of Faith Gospel Choir.
In this season, we pause and examine the things that stand in the way of our relationship with God. Notre Dame’s Voices of Faith Gospel Choir reminds us that we must seek God first – before fame, riches, pleasure, or certainty. In order to anchor our lives in God and to direct our efforts towards the coming of the kingdom, we must trust in God’s providence. What might be taking priority in our lives over our relationship with God? How can we re-center this day, this week, and this Lenten season, by seeking God first?
Leroy Almon (American, 1938–1997), Mr. & Mrs. Satan Fishing, 1991. Polychrome bas-relief wood carving, 22 1/2 × 24 in. Gordon Gallery, Nashville.
Leroy Almon (1938–1997) was born in Tallapoosa, Georgia, but grew up in Ohio. While working for Coca-Cola in Columbus, he met the self-taught woodcarver Elijah Pierce [previously] at Gay Tabernacle Baptist Church, where Pierce served as lay preacher, and in 1979 became apprenticed to him. Pierce taught Almon how to make low-relief carvings in wood using pocketknives and hand chisels, and then to paint them. Initially the two collaborated on pieces, until 1982, when Almon returned to Tallapoosa. There he restored his childhood home, converting the basement into an art studio. Like his mentor, he too combined the vocations of art making and evangelical preaching.
Almon is well known for his didactic carvings on the subjects of religion, politics, and African American history. The battle between good and evil is at the forefront of his art. Satan fishing for souls is a theme he developed and returned to many times in variation; see, for example, here, here, here, and here. Such carvings show a caricatured Satan (red, horned, spiky-tailed, and goateed) dangling various vices—gambling, promiscuity, sex, drugs, greed, hypocrisy, etc.—as bait before humans who appear ready to bite. Sometimes he’s joined by his wife, Mrs. Satan!
In the version at the Gordon Gallery in Nashville, cards, cash, a romantic couple (presumably unwed), alcohol, cigarettes, a bomb, hard drugs, and a church building are on the line. The latter symbolizes the false piety of many churchgoers and the corruption inside institutionalized Christianity.
In The New Encyclopedia of Southern Culture, Vol. 23: Folk Art, Jenifer P. Borum praises Almon’s ability to “mix fire-and-brimstone warnings about the world’s evils with a playful sense of humor”; she refers to the “comic moralism” of his work. My first reaction upon seeing Mr. & Mrs. Satan Fishing was to laugh out loud. But then I wondered whether the humor was intentional. Does the artist want us to chuckle? I haven’t been able to find any statements from Almon. The image likely represents very real temptations that afflicted his community and maybe, some of them, him personally. I suppose the humor could be self-conscious, but if so, it’s a dark humor—gravitas masked in levity. Almon knew that “like a roaring lion [our] adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour” (1 Pet. 5:8).
Leroy Almon on his front stoop in Tallapoosa, Georgia, 1987. Photo: Roger Manley.
LISTEN: “The Devil Ain’t Lazy” by Fred Rose; originally recorded by Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys, 1947 | Performed by Pokey LaFarge on Pokey LaFarge, 2013
The devil ain’t lazy (No siree) The devil ain’t lazy (No siree)
He roams around with sticks and stones Passing out his moans and groans The devil ain’t no lazy bones He works 24 hours a day
The devil ain’t lazy (No siree) The devil ain’t lazy (No siree)
He likes to see us fight and fuss Makes us mean enough to cuss Then he blames it all on us He works 24 hours a day
He travels like a lightning streak And he strikes from town to town Then he gets you when you’re weak He’ll tear your playhouse down
The devil ain’t lazy (No siree) The devil ain’t lazy (No siree)
He tells us he won’t hurt a fly Then he makes us steal and lie Keeps us sinning until we die He works 24 hours a day
The devil ain’t lazy (No siree) The devil ain’t lazy (No siree)
Gets his pitchfork out each night Gives the folks an awful fright I know he does it just for spite He works 24 hours a day
The devil ain’t lazy (No siree) The devil ain’t lazy (No siree)
Tells us how to find success I know he’ll wind up in distress I’ll tell ya why: the devil is an awful mess He works 24 hours a day
He likes to see things scorch and burn He don’t make no excuse If he catches you, he’ll turn you Every way but loose
The devil ain’t lazy (No siree) The devil ain’t lazy (No siree)
So if you think you’re strong and brave Smart enough to not behave You got one foot in the grave He works 24 hours a day 24 hours a day (Yes, he does!) He works 24 hours a day He works 24 hours a day
“Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.”
—Matthew 7:13–14
Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?”
—Matthew 16:24–26
These teachings of Jesus give me pause. How do we square them with Jesus’s saying that his yoke is light, and that in him the heavy laden find rest (Matt. 11:28–30)? Crosses are hefty! They weigh down. To follow Christ, do we trade one burden (sin) for another (self-denial)? And is there not a wideness and a freedom to Christ’s way? Narrowness implies constriction. His embrace is certainly wide. But his gate is narrow?
I’ve seen this passage abused by Christians who insist that their own narrow parameters of belief and practice (and I’m talking apart from the historical creeds) constitute the one true path; without accounting for differences of conscience, culture, or biblical interpretation, they label this view or that behavior a “slippery slope” that will lead to destruction.
I have thoughts on some of these questions, but they’re not fully formed. Feel free to share your thoughts in the Comment field.
Rather than ignoring Bible passages that I find confusing or uncomfortable, I prefer to wrestle with them. Below I’ll look at how two artists engage these texts, setting them within a larger framework: German painter Laurentius de Neter and hymn writer Isaac Watts. Both works are old-fashioned, and I don’t give my full endorsement to either one, but I believe they are worth visiting.
LOOK: The Broad and Narrow Road by Laurentius de Neter (aka Laurence Neter)
Laurentius de Neter (German, 1600–1649), De brede en de smalle weg (The Broad and Narrow Road), ca. 1635. Oil on canvas, 59 × 78 cm. Museum Catharijneconvent, Utrecht, Netherlands.
The artist painted this image, popular among Protestants, during his three-year sojourn in the Netherlands from 1635 to 1638. I saw it when I was there in 2019, in one of the galleries of the Museum Catharijneconvent in Utrecht. There was a Dutch title given but no description. I spent a while looking at all the details.
In the center is a large tree—green and lush on the left, and dead and barren on the right. A man stands under it, being pulled in two directions.
To our right is a skeleton with a bow and arrow, standing in the shadows and representing death, and a finely dressed woman holding an apple, representing temptation. She tries to persuade the man toward a life of earthly pleasures, signified by a pile of cards and dice, a theatrical mask, musical instruments and sheet music, bags of coins, fancy vases, and armor. On this “worldly” side a regent sits on a dais under a canopy before a literal wall of gold—her head ensconced in a glass globe! She is living in a bubble, consumed with self and power. Nearby a lutist and a harpist play at an extravagant outdoor banquet, while in the background a contemporary “Lazarus,” hungry and barely clothed, sits outside the host’s house as two dogs lick his sores.
In the right background a crowd of people shuffle through a wide archway marked V[olu]pta[t]es, Latin for “pleasures.” (I’m not sure who the sculpted figures on top are supposed to represent.) They are heading toward destruction, as is clear from the blazing fire in the distance. This is one of the paths that is open to the indecisive man at the center.
His other option, though, is the way of Christ. He is beckoned there by a simply dressed woman with an infant, representing Christian love, and by an angel who points to the Ten Commandments with his sword.
This “narrow way” is marked by humble prayer and service. At the left, those who have chosen this way enact the seven works of mercy, derived mainly from Matthew 25: feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, clothing the naked, sheltering the stranger, visiting the prisoner, caring for the sick, and burying the dead. They have taken up their cross, and they head for a narrow footpath that stretches over a body of water and winds up and around a mountain. Those who fall off the path are in danger of landing in the fiery pit at the base.
Even though it’s a popular metaphor and has been for ages, I’m not so keen on envisioning the Christian life as an uphill climb. It’s meant to connote something of the struggle to press on as well as a sense of progression toward a goal—the mountaintop, which stands for heaven. But it seems this picture could falsely suggest that heaven is gained through self-exertion, through laborious effort, and that the journey of faith is one of continual progress or ascent, and that it looks the same for everyone. In reality, sometimes we start out high but regress. Sometimes we travel a different path for a while, but it meets back up with the main, bringing us to a point we couldn’t have gotten to any other way.
While I realize there are scriptures to support the view of faith as a feat of endurance (e.g., Phil. 3:12–14; 1 Cor. 9:24–27; Gal. 6:9), and I’m certainly not suggesting idleness, there are also numerous passages about relying on God’s strength rather than our own; on Christ’s merits, not our own.
I think that as long as we recognize the limitations of the mountain metaphor, bringing a more nuanced understanding to it, it’s fine to retain.
But another problematic idea that this painting could be read as insinuating is that all pleasures, such as good food, the theater, music, and games, ought to be repudiated as distractions at best, idolatries at worst. (No one on the narrow path is seen enjoying such things.) Enjoyment of the arts and of God’s good gifts is not sinful. However, if you come to live only for such pleasures, if you become so consumed with them that they cause you to ignore the needs of those around you and neglect your other Christian duties, then they can become destructive. One might discern this subtle distinction in de Neter’s portrayal of the bombastic displays of wealth and the diners’ apparent exclusion of the poor and disabled from their feast.
I do appreciate that the artist’s characterization of the “narrow path” includes not just personal pieties but also a social aspect—faith worked out in the public square in material ways, in interactions with neighbors.
LISTEN: “Windham” (Roud 15045) | Words by Isaac Watts, 1707–9 | Music by Daniel Read, 1785 | Performed by the Watersons on Sound, Sound Your Instruments of Joy, 1977
Broad is the road that leads to death And thousands walk together there But wisdom shows a narrow path With here and there a traveler
“Deny thyself and take thy cross” Is the Redeemer’s great command Nature must count it all but dross If she would gain this heavenly land
The fearful soul that tires and faints And walks the ways of God no more Is but esteemed almost a saint And makes his own destruction sure
Lord, let not all my hopes be vain Create my heart entirely new Which hypocrites could ne’er attain Which false apostates never knew
Isaac Watts titled this hymn—quite unattractively!—“Few saved: or, The almost Christian, the Hypocrite, and Apostate.” The tune, which is in the Sacred Harp (aka shape-note) tradition, is by New England composer Daniel Read (1757–1836); it’s named WINDHAM, I’m assuming after the town of Windham, Connecticut, Read’s state of residence. The famous British folk group The Watersons recorded the hymn under that title in the seventies. The text and tune complement each other very well.
I will say, though: I don’t like the third stanza. There’s no grace or compassion in it, no sense of God’s faithfulness to carry his own, his strength applied to our weakness, or his calling back the wayward wanderers. It may be influenced at least in part by Revelation 21:7–8 (KJV): “He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be my son. But the fearful [i.e., cowardly], and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death.” But Watts’s image of tiredness and fainting suggests someone who has picked up their cross and has buckled under its weight, as opposed to someone who outright rejects Christ’s call to cross taking. So in that case, Watts may have more in mind the passages of scripture that mention a believer’s “falling away,” or apostatizing, from the faith (Heb. 3:12; 6:4–12; 10:26–39; Rom. 11:22; 1 Cor. 9:25–27; etc.). Only those who persevere to the end will be saved.
I’m not sure how the “hypocrite” of the title fits into all this.
I don’t wish to get bogged down here with Calvinist versus Arminian debates about whether salvation can be lost, as that would detract from the main point, which is following Christ, staying committed.
I would not program this hymn into a worship service—it’s stark and severe and lacks, as I said, a perspective of divine grace, even if it does honor certain isolated scripture passages—but I wanted to introduce it here nonetheless. Being by the father of English hymnody, it circulated quite widely; the website Hymnary identifies its appearance in 441 hymnals. And it directly ties in to my two selected scripture texts, which are stark and severe, and I know of few other songs that address them. Not all hymns have to have a feel-good quality. Sometimes hymn writers give us something with bite, and that can be OK, even necessary. This one is an admonishment to stay on the straight and narrow. If you’ve veered off course, now is the time to come back!
Nicholas Palumbo, Forgive, 2015‒16. Cut Bristol board on cardstock. Collection of Community Partners in Action, Hartford, Connecticut.
Nicholas Palumbo is one of thousands who have participated in Community Partners in Action’s Prison Arts Program over its forty-plus years of operation. Founded in 1977 and directed by Jeffrey Greene, the program “promotes self-examination and self-esteem in Connecticut inmates through participation in visual arts classes, exhibitions and publications, and brings the talent and creativity of the prison population to the community at large.”
This cut-out by Palumbo, titled Forgive, is one of the artworks the CPA purchased for its permanent art collection, which travels, along with new pieces, to public schools, universities, libraries, community centers, and galleries throughout the state. I came across it in a Hyperallergic review of the 2019 exhibition How Art Changed the Prison: The Work of CPA’s Prison Arts Program at the Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum in Ridgefield, Connecticut.
Full of whimsy, Palumbo’s piece brings together the words “God,” “joy,” “love,” “faith,” and “forgive” with scripture references (Luke 1:37, “For nothing will be impossible with God”; John 3:16, “For God so loved the world . . .”) and images of seashells, fish, birds, hearts, flowers, insects, a dog, a rock band under the stars, and children playing ring-around-the-rosy. I see it as an invitation into Christ’s joy-filled kingdom, which we must enter with faith like a child (Matt. 18:1-5; Mark 10:13-16; Luke 18:15-17)—in trust, curiosity, and wonder.
An alphabetical catechism, set to a buoyant, guitar-driven melody.
At all times give thanks, for this pleases God Be kind, loving, and forgiving to each other Christ died for our sins and rose again Don’t lie or cheat, but be truthful Even a child is known by what he does For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son God made the heavens and the earth Honor your father and mother It’s right to care for your animals Jesus said, “I am the Good Shepherd”
Alleluia, alleluia
Know that the Lord is God; he made us and we are his Love God with all your mind and strength Make the highest goal of your life love, for your Neighbors here and God above Obey your parents in the Lord Parents, gently correct, and teach your children in God’s ways Quench not the Holy Spirit Rejoice and be glad in the Lord
Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia
Serve the Lord happily and sing to him Temptations come to all, but God gives us strength to do right Unless you become like a child, you cannot enter heaven Victory over the world is our faith Worship the Lord and serve him only Except you be reborn, you will not see God’s truth You are the light of the world Zacchaeus, Jesus came to save those who are lost
Chunye He (Chinese, 1968–), Walking Together, 2018. Ink on rice paper, 67 × 43 cm.
This Chinese ink-wash painting is from Matter + Spirit: A Chinese/American Exhibition, the product of a 2018 gathering in Beijing of North American and Chinese art professors, sponsored by the Nagel Institute for the Study of World Christianity. According to curator Rachel Hostetter Smith, He’s piece, which shows two dragonflies flying in tandem, is “a poetic rendering of the way family, friends, and God ‘walk alongside’ us especially in times of trouble and loss.” It is stamped in red with the Chinese character for “earth,” which happens to be shaped like a cross.
This song was written by Leslie Jordan, Aaron Keyes, Orlando Palmer, Isaac Wardell, and Paul Zach of the Christian music collective The Porter’s Gate. The Spotify link is to their studio recording from 2019, whereas the YouTube video is a 2020 virtual performance by musicians from Whitworth Campus Ministries in Spokane, Washington.
Teach us Your ways, teach us Your ways As we learn from one another Learn to love each other Teach us Your ways
Teach us to give, teach us to give Give ourselves for one another Learn to love each other Teach us to give
Teach us to weep, teach us to weep Let us weep with one another Learn to love each other Teach us to weep
Hallelujah, hallelujah Let us learn from one another Learn to love each other Teach us Your ways
Art & Theology 